holtzmann
patreon
Dance of the Damned - Male Kazael mini-story
🕑 Added 2022-03-30 11:13:09 +0000 UTCIn this short story baby boy Kazael interrupts a very serious argument between his parents and his godfather. Little did he know his life was about to change forever.
—
The Crane Mansion stood like a charred skeleton upon the tallest hill. Dark gates and living mazes of Dead Man's Fingers surrounding the gothic structure by all sides. At its feet the city of Luanya stretches in all its nightly glory—the moon hangs from the morning sky as a silent watcher.
Within the macabre manor a couple and their trusted knight commune, surrounded by walls of ebony wood lined with paintings of morbid landscapes and portraits of long dead family members, all with bloodless complexions. The floor is made of pure black marble, cold and grim. Heavy curtains of dark-blue velvet bar the first rays of pale sunlight, giving the room an austere, but somewhat inviting feeling.
The inviting feeling of the room however doesn't seem to help dispelling the sour mood of its occupants.
A tall man, clad in cerimonial clothes of a rich burgundy, black leather pants and knee-high boots, stands in the middle of the room. His skin practically glows a lovely dark-brown, the difference between his healthy warm complexion and the pallid gauntness of the man he is speaking to is apparent for everyone to see. "Are you sure you want to go forward with this crazy plan, my Lord?" The man's tone is firm, but his soft brown eyes beg his Lord to see reason.
The Lord of the manor is quick to find humor in the question, and rather than to feel offended his eyes glint with mirth, the corners of his deathly pale lips stretching in a low chuckle. With eyes and long straight hair matching the black marble beneath his feet, his appearance is much alike the portraits hanging on the dark walls. He sits behind a behemoth of a desk, the wood as dark as the spirals rising from the mansion's roof to scrape the skies.
"Please enlight me, Markus. Why exactly do you think my plan will fail?" The man asks as he lazily signs another document.
Seeing the smirk twisting his friend's face causes a ball of ice to form in the pit of his stomach, it freezes any hope that Vladmir might abandon this crazy idea in favor for peace.
The knight then turns to the only other person in the room—and in this world—capable of dissuading the Duke of Luanya.
"My Lady, please. Make your husband see reason. I beg you, think about little Kaz."
The Lady in question is elegantly perusing through hundreds of old books neatly organized in the ancient floor to ceiling bookshelves. Her long red nails scrape along their surface, the crimson color a shocking contrast against her bone white skin, black dress and even blacker hair. She turns at being addressed, a gentle smile already tugging her plump scarlet lips. Her complexion, even though pale, doesn't share the same bloodless feature as her husband's, a subtle warmth still paints her cheeks a lovely pink. Her gray eyes are the only thing about her devoid of all color.
"Oh, please. There's no need to sink to such depths, darling. You know well enough that Kazael's safety is, and it always will be, our foremost priority." Her voice is angelic and her tone is soft, but her words are spoken with an assuredness only a mother can hope to achieve. She walks in Markus' direction, taking the man's warm hands on hers. "His fate, should our 'crazy plan' fail, is already set in stone. He will be safe, I promise you that."
The man gives a resigned sigh. He wants to believe in Isabella's words, more than anything, but deep in his still beating heart he knows that something isn't right. Whatever plan his dear friends have concocted is going to fail miserably and little Kaz will be the one left to pick up the pieces of this broken family.
As a fatalist, thinking of all the ways this can go wrong is like second nature to him. It's what kept them alive this long.
He knows young Kaz will be safe, he has him, and Isabella and Vladmir would never put their dear boy in danger. They will make sure that whatever happened in the next few weeks won't affect his godson in any way—at least not physically.
"You're such an alarmist," the jab is softened with a scarlet kiss on the knight's cheek. "Have a little faith in us, would you. When have Vladmir and I ever lead you astray?"
"Even the most prosperous empire will crumble if their foundation is rotted, Bella. You have built such amazing things, more than I could ever have imagined. More than both your families could have ever dreamed. Are you really willing to throw all of that away for just more power? Don't you and Vlad already control half the city of Luanya? Isn't that enough?" Desperation laces his words, he can't help but feel betrayed by the two people he swore to love and protect. Why they won't listen?
"For people such as us stagnation is like a drug, love. You only need to have a taste once, once, soon after that drug becomes addictive and you can't see yourself living in any other way." The Duke gazes at the pair, a solemn look passing over his eyes—the ghosts of terrible memories. It soon passes, and it is replaced by a fierceness that scares Markus to the bone. "We will harness the power of the dead, just imagine what we could achieve, Luanya will be only the beginning. We will be like Death themselves."
"For people such as you power is like poison, Vlad. The Abyssal was once the most powerful of their kind, look where it got them. Power means nothing when everyone is against you." The knight can help the venomous look he throws at the his Lord. When did he become so gluttonous for power?
Isabella gasps, shocked by her friend's careless words. "Careful of what you say, darling. The night goddess is always watching. Her silver-webs are everywhere."
"Nemeya doesn't care about any of us, Bella. If she did we would already be maggot's food." You talk about Death but you fail to learn from their mistakes. Their greatest legacy is not their power over the dead, but their near bottomless compassion for anything living."
The Duke's gaze hardens, his patience wearing thin. "Enough, Markus. Arguing like this takes us nowhere. Isabella and I have already decided."
"I'm only trying to fulfill my duty that you granted me." The Lady in black smiles sadly at her knight, gray eyes meeting soft brown. "Kaz is my godson, and I'll protect him til my last breath, but he will be the one to pay the price for your greed."
"That's exactly why I have sent for you tonight, to ask of you a great favor, probably the last one if what you say is going to happen, happens." The Duke moves from behind his desk to join Isabella and Markus in the middle of the room, the grand carpet softening his heavy steps. "When we set the plan in motion we will be at our most vulnerable state, which means Kaz will be left defenseless. We put together several security measures that will keep our enemies at bay, hopefully forever, but if that fails... You will be our son's last line of defense." Cold hands move seemingly on their own accord as they join the two pairs of clasped hands.
"There's no one we trust with his safety, no one except you, Markus. "
Isabella smiles softly at their clasped hands, and at how her knight's cheek flush in response to Vladmir's tender touch. "What my dear husband is saying is, we need you to look out after our little crow, more now than ever. Protect him with your life as you have done us."
"I—"
Before Markus has the chance to say anything, the office's door is gently eased open. A small boy with soft hair as black as the abyss, and sleepy eyes of pure silver starlight, slowly enters the room clutching a stuffed crow toy much bigger than his own head.
He lets out a big yawn before tiredly shuffling his way towards the trio. Each of them staring at the small boy with different levels of bemusement and fondness.
"Mommy? Daddy? It's early, are you not reading me a story for bed?" The sleepy questions are interrupted by another big yawn. Little Kaz than seems to notice his parents are definitely not the only people in the room. "Uncle Marky?" The man in question slowly drops his hands from the couple's soft hold, clearing his throat awkwardly he smiles tenderly at the small boy currently tugging at Isabella's black skirt.
The woman caresses her son's black curls, so much alike her own. "Kaz, what did I already tell you about walking through the house alone just before sunrise?"
"That is dangerous..." The little boy mumbles, looking down as he shuffle his feet with a cute pout firmly in place.
Markus takes pity on the small thing, and yet he can't help but to tease him a little bit. The knight kneels beside the boy, playfully tickling Kaz's barefeet. "Tsk, tsk and barefoot nonetheless... you are practically asking to catch a cold." The mansion is soon filled with the boy's happy giggles. "Alright, little one. How about I tuck you into bed today?"
Kaz can only nod excitedly, struggling to catch his breath after his uncle finally takes pity on him. Like a newborn coala he clings to Markus without much prompt from the man.
"What you would like me to read to you, huh? Lady Isabella told me you practically devoured all the books I gave you last month."
"I did! I did! My favorite one is Dilusions of a Mad Illusionist."
Markus smiles fondly while the boy practically bounces in his arms. "Humm, poetry? A boy after my own heart. Tell you what, for every book you read I promise to give you two more, how does that sound?"
"Yes! Yes! I'll read them all!" Gray eyes shine with barely contained excitement, chubby little fingers never letting go of the stuffed crow toy.
Isabella chuckles at her son spirited responses while the softest of smiles grace her husband's pale lips. At this moment they both realize that they made the right choice appointing Markus as their son's guardian. The piece of paper Vladmir had just signed sits heavily on the wooden desk behind them, he hopes the day where Markus sees it never comes, but he will never regret his decision.
"We sure have enough free space to keep them all."
"I love you, uncle Mark." The boy exclaims, chubby arms suddenly wrapping around his godfather's neck. Drowsiness weights heavily against his small body and he soon rests his head on the knight's shoulder, closing his eyes almost instantly.
The Duke and his wife can see the moment Markus relents, the fight he had in him just a few moments ago is gone with just three simple words of their son. Is almost unfair, almost. "I love you too, little crow." He whispers, gently kissing the fluffy crown of raven black hair.
Markus looks back one last time at Isabella and Vladmir, sheer resolve now shining in his soft brown orbs. He will defend the boy in his arms even if it's the last thing he do; this world is a terrible place to raise a child, but despite the dread clawing at his heart he is confident that Kazael will grow to be an amazing man.
